


Reconcilliation

by Giraffegon



Series: Adventures in Elf/Human romance [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Possessive Behavior, REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO BAD, Reunions, lovers to enemies to lovers?, rhaekal is kind of an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffegon/pseuds/Giraffegon
Summary: More than 500 years after Thessalian ended the Ebon Emperor's reign, the man has come back to haunt him. Wracked by guilt, Thessalian intends to free his old lover. But death changes people, and the thirst for power that felled Derrin's soul still dwells.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Thessalian/Rhaekal
Series: Adventures in Elf/Human romance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545268
Kudos: 3





	Reconcilliation

**Author's Note:**

> chronologically this happens after the First Landing (way after, in fact) and before the True Meaning of a Tease (way before, in fact!).

Slipping through the carved opening into the Great Oak, Thessalian could not restrain the gasp of horror that ripped through him. Convincing the guards to let him through was a simple affair. He was, after all, a well known and loved face to humans of Cal’vira, and though they were scornful to let a hooded stranger approach them, they soon changed their tune, graciously allowing him entry to the hollow. Inside, the Forge burned like a second sun, the elf’s sensitive eyes reacting to the sight. Even despite his squinting, he could see the silhouette of his target. He was outside of the light’s influence, a being of darkness in a room of light. It took a few seconds to adjust before Thessalian’s eyes could stand the radiance of the Godly waters- he almost wished it had sent him blind, for it would have cut him less deeply than the scene before him.

His hunch was correct- they held Rhaekal here. He was chained, naturally- but the manner in which they had contained him… Thessalian grit his teeth, shaking slightly. They had him imprisoned; at least 4 chains held on each manacle. One manacle on his neck, one on each wrist, thigh, and ankle. It was clear that they had spikes, or serrations of some sort, for each time Rhaekal so much as twitched a new stream of thick, black blood fell to the soil, making a sizzling noise as it hit the holy ground. Thessalian clutched his cloak close, his knuckles white.

“Derrin,” he croaked, barely a whisper.

Despite the odds, the prisoner heard him.

_ Of course, he did. _

Rhaekal was in worse shape than Thessalian left him on that fateful day. The wounds Maevra inflicted lay deep over his right eye, eyebrow and by his aquiline nose- that same eye was completely black, though why Thessalian could not reason. The man’s sole red eye pierced him, the empty, lightless tone disturbing him more than the unnatural colour. He grumbled from under his mask but did not move.

The elf could not blame him for that.

Thessalian advanced, cautious.

The chains holding him connected directly to the hollow- it would be impossible for him to simply break his bonds, not unless he could uproot the Great Oak itself. The damage to his body told the elf someone had tried to torture him, and the vacant look in his eyes said they had succeeded. Thessalian tentatively brought a thin hand to Rhaekal’s chest, cringing when the man jerked reflexively. He held his hand there, gentle as a feather, waiting until the man’s wild eye had lidded and his movement stilled. He felt the fevered breaths still to a nearly undetectable level, the only sign the man was indeed breathing the shallow movement of his protruding ribs. The elf shook his head weakly.

“What have they done to you, Derrin? How far you have fallen since that sword claimed your soul-debt…” Rhaekal did not move, his eye slowly closing from the soothing pressure on his chest. It was the kindest touch he had experienced since his imprisonment. Eyes hardening, Thessalian prepared what he had to do.

He took a hesitant step back, remorse ailing him as the man’s stricken eye followed his hand. He cleared his throat and threw off his cloak- it fluttered uselessly to the dirt floor. Thessalian spread his arms apart and opened his soul to the energies he had grown so accustomed to. It was easy, here. The place from which he pulled such power was each layer of the Oak, and the thrumming veins were all too eager to bend to his will. It took merely a single, explosive reaction- controlled, of course, for his old flame’s safety- for the manacles to unclasp, the strong metal weak against the arcane power they were the victim of. With nothing to support him, Rhaekal collapsed onto his face, finally freed from his biting prison. A weak groan came from the slumped man, the only suggestion of his consciousness. Thessalian lowered himself fluidly, sitting on his haunches as he observed the man.

“Derrin,” he cooed, making sure his tone was hushed, “please, _speak_. Tell me you’re all right, tell me you don’t…” His throat constricted on his final word, unwilling to finish the thought.

Rhaekal brought himself up of shaking arms, weeping sores, and bruises prominent on translucent skin. A bitter, sardonic wrenched itself from the man’s throat, voice roughly and barely audible from disuse. Thessalian worried his lip. He offered Rhaekal his hand which, after a moment of intense staring, he took. How easily he brought the man up shocked Thessalian- a testament to his new weakness. Rhaekal hacked as Thessalian helped him up, still hunched over as though snapped in half. Unable to restrain himself, Thessalian grabbed his face and forced their eyes to meet, allowing his emotion to show through. The anger, terror, sadness and, perhaps worst of all, his _affection_. The elf gave Rhaekal a firm slap to the face, enough to turn the man’s head. A dark chuckle bubbled up from the beaten man as he returned to facing Thessalian, a slowly reddening patch on his cheek. Thessalian glared at him from above.

“Still you have nothing to say?” The elf hissed out the words. “Just say something, you stubborn bull! Tell me you hate me, you’ll kill me- _anything_!”

Rhaekal stayed silent for a moment. He coughed once more and spoke, a terrible, scratchy noise like nails on a chalkboard.

“Why are you here?”

Thessalian blinked, puzzled. “Because you are imprisoned. I came to set you free-“

“_Why_?”

The elf bit his lip as Rhaekal straightened to his full height, long hair half-obscuring his face. “I... I think you already know,” he whispered. “Let’s leave, _quickly_.” Rhaekal gave a rough laugh.

“No, I don’t know. Tell me, I want to _hear_ the confession.” He grinned wildly. “The words you could never say to me in Estrava, is that it? I’ve killed so many of your people, innocents from every corner of Cal’vira!” His voice echoed now, but Thessalian did not shrink away. “You know that I belong here, or are you that blind? You are selfish, _Thessalian_. A selfish man, freeing the world’s enemy for the release of your guilt!” He snarled at the elf, bending towards him. Thessalian’s lip quivered, but he did not step aside.

“You wish to hear those words?” He sighed. “No. Not now,” he muttered. Rhaekal cackled, but Thessalian silenced him with a hand on his cracked lips. “I know that I am selfish, Derrin. I have come to accept it. While you slept in that shallow grave, I have come to accept many things about myself that I’d rather not admit.” He removed his hand, softly, with too much delicacy for the man in front- and kissed him. It was chaste and pure, more of a statement than an act. “I hate what you _did_,” he gasped as he pulled away. “I hate what you _became_. But I do not hate _you_, Derrin. You are… _were_… a good man, with a strong heart. It’s still who you are, inside!” His eyes lit with passion, staring searchingly into the panicked eyes of the monster. “You’ve _been_ punished. Why do you think I came here now, decades after the trial? You’ve been broken, and your words tell me you know you deserved it.” He brought a slim hand into Rhaekal’s, startled when Rhaekal took his arm into a tight grip. “Please, you have done your time. You have spent more time in bonds than controlling your dominion, though those… _Viclanders_… will never allow you to go free until this world is a husk.” He took deep breaths, his lips a thin line as he awaited the man’s response. Rhaekal gave him an odd look.

“_You_… don’t call me by that name,” he grunted. “’Derrin Wolfsbane’… is dead. He died when I entered that Swamp; when I had those Elves killed, their young taken to Valengal to be used like animals. I do not deserve the name of a noble knight. Not anymore.” Thessalian opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself at the last moment. “You love the man whose soul was given to fuel _my _life. If you wish to free me, be my guest. Nobody else will, and I suppose I would prefer not to rot here any longer. But do not delude yourself into thinking I am Wolfsbane. It would be less painful to acknowledge the man’s death than to continue this farce.” Thessalian staggered back in disbelief.

“How… how can you say that?” Emotions swirled like an ocean in his throat, tears stinging his eyes. “D… R-Rhaekal, the very _fact_ that you can see that you’ve done wrong- it’s enough to tell me that man still lives within you!” He placed his other hand on Rhaekal’s tight fist, gently rubbing with his thumb. The man closed his eyes, conflicted. “Rhaekal, listen to me,” he pleaded. “There is not much time. The guards have fallen into a deep sleep, but the enchantment is not permanent. They will awaken, and they will see us fleeing.” He jerked his arm away, trying to encourage Rhaekal to release him. The hold did not let up. “We can escape. You can be free, _just_…” He took a shaky breath, touching their foreheads together. “Just… allow me to help you, you… big oaf!” Rhaekal’s eyes opened lazily, a leer on his face.

“You open yourself into disappointment so easily, little elf.” He brought Thessalian’s other hand to his face, nuzzling into it, and purring lowly. “Very well. I shall run away with you like a lovestruck maiden, lover.” He let go of both Thessalian’s hand and arm, straightening up again. “These rags ill suit me. We will make our escape, and I will rule once again.” He looked down upon the shocked face before him, a simper on his lips. “You, my lover, my killer and my saviour. You will suffer, watching me- and yet, I know that you will stay. Love… irrational and a curse. I have done my penance in these chains, and yours shall be your own heart’s demise.” He grabbed the elf’s face, kissing him ferociously before detaching completely, only one word on his lips: “_Mine_.”

Thessalian gawked as Rhaekal charged out of the hollow, dragging the elf out with him.


End file.
